As The Storm Gathers
by warrior of the nile
Summary: 'The storm wakes Tony up. Or, rather, the gathering of the storm does. The potential. The energy. It races across Tony's skin like electricity. His blood sings. He sighs and throws off his covers. He's never been able to sleep through a storm.'


Inspired by hello-shellhead's AMAZING artwork on tumblr: com/post/151899105506/dedicated-to-dreamcatchersdaughter-because-their and com/post/151850264396/more-witchy-tony-i-like-to-cover-him-in

If this seems kinda pointless, that's cause I wrote this at 1am when I couldn't sleep.

* * *

The storm wakes Tony up. Or, rather, the gathering of the storm does. The potential. The energy. It races across Tony's skin like electricity. His blood sings. He sighs and throws off his covers. No use in trying to sleep now. If the tingling in his limbs are anything to go by, it's going to be a big one.

He sits on the side of the bed and stretches as his familiar – Jarvis – glares at him from his pillow.

"What?" he asks, "You'd rather I toss and turn and keep you awake instead?"

Jarvis merely glares some more before curling his tail around his face and closes his eyes again.

"That's what I thought," he says dryly.

He gets up and goes to stand in front of the window, looking out. The rune in his chest glows faintly in the glass. It casts eerie shadows across Tony's face, making him look more bewitching than usual. His eyes have taken on the same faint blue glow. No one in that moment would deny Tony was a witch.

Not that anyone ever did, that would be just plain stupidity. But still, the point remains.

He gently touches the rune and it sends a shock up his spine, like always. He has never been able to sleep through a storm, even when he was little. Too much energy in the air. If it didn't give him a rush of energy in return, it gave him a headache. Those were the nights when he snuck out onto the balcony to watch and wait. Those were the nights, later on, when he came up with some of his best ideas. Some of his best inventions.

He had always been sensitive before. But now, with the magic concentrated in his chest like it is, that has increased exponentially. If they bothered him before, they drove him mad now. Well, madder anyways.

Sometimes Tony wishes he knew necromancy just so he could bring back Obie and kill him. Again. Life was a lot simpler before the bastard, his so called adopted father, had him kidnapped. Sure, he was an ignorant, selfish dick, but let's face it. The only thing that changed afterwards is the ignorant part. He is still so totally a selfish dick. No matter the amends he is trying to make.

He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. He never had much luck taming it. It drives his stylists mad. People think he does it on purpose. His fresh-from-bed – or sex, depending on who you ask – look. He doesn't. The irony always makes him laugh.

Pepper likes to joke about it. She also likes to make jokes about his make-up skills. As in, she accuses him of having more than she does. Which is completely and utterly false. He most certainly does not. He just happens to like his eye liner. It's not his fault they make so many different colors. And fine, fine, his eye shadow collection is kinda, sorta, large. But they make even more eye shadow then they do eye liner. At least he doesn't have all the flush and foundation and lipstick. He _might_ own some lip _gloss_ but definitely no lip stick. And no glitter either. That is a bitch to get out of his hair.

Plus, that whole thing with Adam Lambert and Magnus Bane that she thinks is hilarious. Which is totally not true. Not at all. He totally does not look like either of those two men. One of them isn't even real. Although Tony may watch the tv show. You know, just for laughs.

And research. Research is totally a thing too. Why? Because he totally got their rune system to work for him. People may doubt, but he can absolutely back himself up now. And some of those runes? Damn useful. All it took was a little tweaking too. The proof is tattooed on his side, joining his others. He is immensely proud.

Although not as proud as they day he got a Harry Potter spell to work. Pep was in tears she laughed so hard, but it was worth it. Because really? That Latin? Fucking nightmare. He still made it work though. Eventually. Thank god Jarvis can't talk to anyone but him.

Sassy ass. No one ever believes him when he tells them, but it's true. His familiar is _so_ sassy. Well, Pep believes him, but she doesn't count. Rhodey just tells him it's karma. His friends are the worst.

Lightening flashes off in the distance. The storm still has a couple of more miles before it gets here, but it's coming. He feels more restless by the minute.

His fingers tap aimlessly against his thigh as he leans more fully against the window. He feels naked without all his jewelry on right now. He has nothing to play with. To fiddle with. Only his earrings are in – are always in – but they aren't enough at the moment. That's one of the reasons he wears so much jewelry in the first place. It gives his hands something to do when he isn't making anything. When he isn't creating. Another reason – what people think is the main reason – is purely aesthetic. He looks good in it. No, he looks more than good. He looks sexy. Humility has never been a trait of his. The real reason – the one no one knows but should have frankly guessed by now, come on guys he is a _witch_ – is for protection. He has layers and layers of spell work woven into the metal, the chains, the beads. He keeps adding more as he thinks of them. As he can. Call him paranoid, but he's already been kidnapped once.

There is another bolt of lightening and the thunder gives an ominous rumble. It's almost here. Storm clouds are coming in faster now. They cover the half moon and the dim stars as if they were never there. Everything is building now, climbing higher, reaching for what feels like impossible height. Another thunder clap and then – rain. A sudden, hard downpour from the heavens.

Release.

Tony sags against the window. There is nothing like this kind of release, this kind of build up. Not even sex. Most people would be shocked if they knew he preferred this kind to the latter. Mostly anyways. When it isn't making him want to rip his skin off. Still, he can't imagine never feeling it. He chases the other form of release because it is the closest humans can come to feeling something as powerful, as natural, as this.

Pushing off from the window, he turns away from the downpour to put on his jeans and boots. The energy is settled now. It still dances across his skin, still flows through his veins, but it is a steady thrum now. A steady bliss, if you will. Perfect time to craft.

He exits the bedroom and heads for his workshop, head swimming with ideas. Behind him, the storm goes on.


End file.
